


To Be Opened

by SardonicusRust



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 2nd Person, Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Gore, Magic Drugs, Other, Philisophical Porn, Pleasurable Gore, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Surgery While Alive, Vivisection, consensual vivisection, did somebody say praise kink?, gore porn, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SardonicusRust/pseuds/SardonicusRust
Summary: Cel keeps thanking you as they cut into you, and if you could find your breath, you would thank them back.
Relationships: Celiquillithon "Cel" Sidebottom/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	To Be Opened

**Author's Note:**

> vivisection isn't even a kink of mine. what is a kink of mine is when someone goes "is this hot? am I into this?" and i see it as a challenge to make it indubitably hot. and I wanted to practice writing in 2nd person. And in present tense. So here we are.
> 
> Only read if you want Cel to put their happy lil science fingers INSIDE YOU.

"Thank you _so much_ for doing this. I really can't thank you enough. It's so brave! You're brave! And kind, and- I'm so excited to work with you," Cel says, beaming and chattering away, hands moving confidently, gesturing and working at the same time.

You feel excited as they sound, with an added shiver and movement of anxiety. Like their moving hands are already in your guts, twisting them around. Nerves.

"So. So! I've got- this. This is what I really am excited to try, right. So, like, anesthesia. I can put a person to sleep to work, and I can numb stuff, but that's not actually all that ideal. You know your body best, and I can look all I want, but I can't see _through_ things, I can't see if I'm doing stuff beneath just the one layer of vision I get to make sure everything is fine and dandy under. And I did consider trying to give myself a sort of vision through layers- I call it z-ray vision, because instead of just seeing two axis, two planes, a flat surface, I would be accessing the _third_ axis, so it would be the x axis, the y axis, _and_ the z axis! But that made me dizzy, and I did consider trying to make you transparent like a jellyfish, but that also changes stuff- so I made this!"

They hold up a vial, and you nod encouragingly. No idea what it is, but you see they hope to impress, so you arrange your face to look suitably impressed.

"Yeah! Isn't it great! Here, drink it, and then we'll go ahead."

Their long fingers offer you the vial. It’s tiny, the liquid inside clear and harmless. Barely a mouthful. When you accept it, your fingers touch theirs and they nod encouragingly. You pull the stopper. It has no smell.

You drink.

"Alright! So. I'll start small. You did say you were comfortable removing your clothing? I know I asked, and you already said yes, but you can change your mind at any time and we can stop. I'll probably ask you how you are a lot, and I need you to be honest. It’s not that- It’s like…. we’re partners. I'm not working _on_ you- we're working _together_."

You nod and remove your clothes, the open air raising goosebumps on your exposed skin, but you aren't cold. You actually feel quite pleasant. Maybe it's the potion.

Cel holds out a hand, and you take it. They turn your arm wrist down.

In their other hand is a scalpel, and they gently press down on the back of your hand.

"Ready?"

You're ready.

They draw the scalpel over your hand with a flourish, and you feel the magic.

Your eyes close before you can see the blood.

_Oh_.

That's…. very nice.

Where there should be heat and wet and pain, an open bleeding cut, there's- well. The heat is still there. You can feel the warmth of your own blood, the moisture as it sluggishly fills the small cut. But the pain. That's what you can't recognize.

It's all… backwards.

Your nerves are firing and singing, yes, Cel didn't numb you.

What they did was flip a switch you didn't know you had.

It feels _good_.

The little zings of pain, messages and electricity and nerves, they alert you of the new wound, but... but it's good. It feels like a lazy wine buzz, like relaxing muscles after a massage, like being kissed, like love.

You open your eyes and know Cel can see the slack awe and bliss on your face. They can see in your gaze what you’re experiencing- you’re helpless to wear the languid delight and release in your expression. And you know your face also says what you can't say, for how twisted and backwards it is-

_More._

They hold your bleeding hand as you lift your legs and lean back to lie flat on their table. Bare and laid out, you welcome their touch, their scalpel, whatever they'll deign to give you, you'll take. Willingly. Joyously.

They seem to share your rapture as they take up their knife and set it to your sternum. 

You meet eyes as they let the tip of the blade stand there. The sliver of steel is a bridge, a closed circuit, a complete loop. Your radiant anticipation feeds theirs, theirs feeding yours in return, and you both gorge yourselves on this forbidden fascination.

"Do it," you whisper, and they open you wide.

The pleasure of your parting skin seizes your breath, and you lie perfectly still as they do their work.

You can’t move.

You can’t even breathe.

You can only ride the razor edge as it rides you, trailing lovingly across and in your skin, your sinew. Cel moves the knife like an artist, and you are creation. Art. Expression. Everything, so much. You’re melting, dripping on the floor with the blood and the sweat. You’re soaked in everything you are like a birth, like death. It runs. You slide. Down into yourself. Cel is with you, in you.

When they take a break, you find your eyes. It takes a moment. As if Cel being in your body has sent you out of it, and now you have to try and take yourself back.

You don’t want to. You want Cel to never stop.

You’re also admittedly glad for the break, as you draw a breath and look down at yourself.

Rich and dark and shining wet. Cel says what you cannot.

“You’re beautiful,” they say, voice soft, speaking simply, as though just as affected by the sight and sensation as you are. They brush your insides. You had momentarily thought to ask them to name the parts of you that you’d never seen before, but their touch takes your words and breath again. You move this time, arching into their touch, pushing your insides against their hand like a cat, like a whore.

The pleasure, the inside-out pain, it is sexual in that it is all consuming and physically wracking you in desperation to finish but also never end. But to reduce it to sexual gratification is just that- a reduction.

It’s more.

You need more.

Cel gently cups your face with their hand. It’s almost too warm. Slick, too soaked to be sticky.

“Still okay?”

You nod, and let them prop you up a bit to take a sip of water. They exclaim and speak large, scientific words with lots of round vowels and strange adjectives. It’s a new language. It’s music. And the realization that it’s you, that they’re speaking _you_ in this joyous tongue of epiphany and transcendent comprehension, and the pleasure ratchets higher just as they sink their hands back into you.

The parts of you which had never before been touched make themselves known in pulses of sensation and heat. Organs shiver and quake in Cel’s adept hands. Words you can recognize intersperse their dictation of the you you’d never known.

“You’re doing great.”

“ _Amazing_.”

“Oh! Oh that’s just incredible. _You’re_ incredible. Look, can you see-?”

“Thank you.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

“This is truly- I’ve never- it’s…. _Thank you._ ”

They’ve stopped cutting, but you’re still falling apart beneath their praise. You’re amazing? You’re… amazing.

You’ve never been so known, here on this slab of a table, sluggishly seeping blood and viscera all over yourself, opened and bared to the skin and further, to the guts, to the sopping slick sinews of you, and this person who is seeing you in a way infinitely more intimate than anyone has seen anyone before-

You are known, and you are named _“Wonderful”._

Their seeking fingers brush your spine, and you come fully undone.

Sobbing.

Laughing.  
Exalted. Ecstatic. Fervently, feverishly euphoric.

Opened and overwrought, flipped nerves singing, you fall and fly from your body as Cel grasps and gasps perfection, taken by the spell of it all, and your blood is mixed with tears as you both cry with rapturous revelation.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks WIR yall are a sticky bunch and i love you for it


End file.
